An Amalgam of Lost Tales
by Angrybee
Summary: Whilst lost in the woods with his fellow travelers, Jin considers their situation, and his past, as the trio strive through both uplifting and heartbreaking adventures in their attempt to make their way back to civilization. Rated for lang. Completed.
1. Chapter 1: The Map

DISCLAIMER: This is merely a work of fanfiction honoring the incredible series, Samurai Champloo. No harm or offense is meant to the owners or creators.

DISCLAIMER: This story takes place between episodes 22 and 23. There may be spoilers up to AND PAST episode 23. Please be warned.

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An Amalgam of Lost Tales

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Chapter One: The Map

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It is fear which looms large over this land. Fear. Fear of going hungry. Fear of losing loved ones to violence or disease. Fear of Westerners coming to destroy our nation. Fear that our way of life is becoming obsolete. Fear is in every village through which we pass. Fear lingers, and rots the buildings, the families, the country.

Fear has it's own vibration, and I know that vibration well. There are things which are too strong for their own good. I may be one of those things.

I fear only one thing, losing my way as a samurai. To throw aside bushido is to accept defeat as surely as is committing seppuku for a crime I refuse to regret.

Sensei, how could you throw aside bushido? How could you wish to render all of your teachings pointless? Better that we live in squalor than the fate you wished us to accept.

Last night, again, another one came for my head and met with his destruction. What good is it to try to explain to the other students what I did? Even if they did understand, they would only come to realize the pointlessness of their own training. For too many, the betrayal of their master would eat at them from within until they became brigands. They would lose their way, and thus die to the way of the samurai. I must bear it for them. To prove that my sensei's teachings were not pointless, I must bear it for all of the students. At least in seeking my death, they have a goal, they are righteous, and they die believing that at least they fought for an honorable cause.

"Oi, Jin, are you even listening to me?" Fuu's voice. She's looking over her shoulder at me. In front of her, Mugen is scratching his hair. I briefly wonder if he has lice, or some other foul skin pestilence.

"Give it up. He hasn't said anything since yesterday."

All they know is that I came back to our camp covered in someone else's blood. It has happened a few times since the journey began, and Fuu always yells a little as she checks me for injuries. Mugen eyes me like I'm fresh meat, but usually says nothing until he finds cause to yell at Fuu about something, like his being hungry, or her being too loud. It's only to distract her, I know. So Fuu will worry less.

Fuu is that sort of person. She's the most fearless girl I've ever met. But, she worries about everything. I do not claim to understand how she can have so much lack of fear, and yet so much concern for the world around her. Sensei once told me that compassion is innate to women, they must learn of war. But war is innate to man, and he must learn of compassion through bushido.

"I'm fine." That's all I said to Fuu. What need was there for more? After that I went to wash my clothes, and tried not to listen to Fuu talking to Mugen about me being covered in blood. Mugen is right. She really -is- loud.

"Jin!" Fuu's taken ahold of my collar. And she's shaking me. I wish she would stop. Not because it hurts, but because I'm not particularly fond of being touched. It provokes the ingrained response of wishing to eliminate the attacker. "Are you listening? Mou, snap out of it already."

"Maybe he's become deaf as well as blind," Mugen says. "I hear that happens when you don't get laid enough."

Fuu pretends not to hear him. She just shakes harder.

"Please stop shaking me," I say as evenly as possible.

"Yatta! He speaks!" Fuu lets go. She's all smiles now, as if she's accomplished something phenomenal. "I was wondering where you were. You were like Night of the Living Dead Ronin or something."

I have no idea what she's talking about. I just haven't had anything to say all day. Why is this any sort of crisis?

"Dead ronin? I can arrange that," Mugen quips as he looks up at the sky. Indeed, it is getting late in the morning. I hadn't noticed.

"I was asking you a question, Jin. Geez, it's not like you to not pay attention." She's worried again. I'm not always good with people, so as compensation I've learned to pick up on the little things behind the masks they wear.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I want to look at the map. See how far we've gotten."

"Ah." I rummage around in my gi for the object in question. I do not know why I've been designated Fuu's official map-holder. Maybe she is worried the animal will eat it if she keeps it in her kimono, or that Mugen would try to sell it if he got the chance. "Hm." Maybe I put it on the other side. I try there. Nothing but ribs. "Hm," I say again.

"Don't tell me..." Fuu scrunches up her face. She looks like the old woman who used to the cook and do laundry at the dojo. "Don't tell me you lost the map."

"I lost the map."

Mugen swings around and starts laughing so hard, he has to hold his stomach.

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Trees. Trees. More trees. This is wilderness. I do not find the wilderness appealing. It is...not particularly my element. I spent my formative years in the Mujuu Shinken Dojo. Not in the forest. Every tree looks alike. And every tree looks decidedly different. This is why people should stick to roads.

"Hey! This sucks! Damnit. There's no sake or women in the woods."

Fuu is walking next to Mugen. I'm behind them both. I'm always back here. Is it because Fuu decides where we are going? Or because I feel more comfortable this way? I do not know. Perhaps it does not matter.

"We're lost," Fuu says. "We are most definitely lost."

"Uh-huh. Lost," that ruffian replies.

"And do you know why we're lost, Mugen?"

"Yeah, but say it anyway."

"Because of Jin."

I say nothing. What can I say? It is the truth. Nonetheless, there is an odd sensation right below my ribs. Perhaps it is the altitude of this land. One needs to breathe more deeply, or one suffers ill effects, such as lightheadedness or odd chest compressions.

Fuu has said nothing to me, directly, since asking for the map. That was this morning.

The map. It must have fallen out when I was fighting yesterday. I should have left it at the camp when I went to seek out the eyes that had been watching us all evening. I do not understand how I could have made this mistake.

Fuu seems to be in a mood I have not witnessed before. At least, not a mood she's directed at me. Oh, she's yelled at me, been angry with me, but this is somehow not the same. And, it is different when she is this way towards Mugen. He just argues with her. They speak loudly and bandy words about like bokkens. Then, suddenly, it is resolved. By what magic or consensus, I know not.

I have no way to resolve this. I say nothing. And this seems to only increase the tension.

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It is growing dark. "We should set up camp."

"You set it up. I'm going to take a piss and find some dinner."

He's doing this on purpose. He must get some sort of inane glee out of watching Fuu be mad at me. And now, without him here to talk to her, the tension will only increase ever the more.

Nonetheless, I start to set up camp. Nothing can be done. I did lose the map. How could I be so stupid? I pride myself on not doing ridiculous things. Things like Mugen would do.

Fuu says nothing to me. She starts gathering sticks for the fire while I clear away brush for the pit. That animal climbs out of her kimono and starts scampering around. It ends up in a tree, watching us.

I am uncomfortable. Why am I so uncomfortable? I must focus on the task at hand. Setting up camp, and then, yes, tomorrow... Tomorrow we will head south. We've been heading south, so we might as well continue in that direction. If we could find a road... Fuu would be happy again, for we would be on the way towards her destination, and not wandering about aimlessly in the woods. Things would return to normal.

Normal. Has anything about this journey been normal?

Fuu brings the kindling. She drops it at my feet. There is a look on her face which causes my head to hurt. It's that one where her lips are drawn together into a sour pucker. Maybe she'll yell now. Maybe she'll call me stupid, I'll apologize, and we'll be done with it. Why does this continue? How do I resolve...this?

I bend down and start arranging twigs. It won't take long, with a piece of flint, to get the fire started. I strike at it with a rock. Unfortunately, I use a little too much force, and a sliver of the flint flakes off and hits me in the jaw. I need to think less. Sensei always said I overanalyzed everything. While this is good in a combat situation, it appears to occasionally be detrimental in more mundane life.

Fuu plops down on the other side of the fire after I get it going. I can hear Mugen crashing about in the nearby woods, swearing occasionally. The noise doesn't usually seem to deter him from catching dinner. Fuu, on the other hand, is still completely silent. And now she's staring at me. Most people don't like to look at me. Catching the wrong samurai's eye can mean death. People fear to look at one another. But, Fuu seems to lack the concept of fear. Perhaps she is yet too young, and too innocent. Or maybe there is nothing she's afraid to lose.

I stare blankly into the woods. The night chill is descending, but the fire burns bright. It's warmth, however, is bested by the searing gaze being directed at me.

Why do I care? Why can't I focus? Why doesn't this slide off of me like all other things? It must. It must. This means nothing. Fuu means...

"Jin."

I turn my face to look at Fuu. Maybe she'll yell now. Maybe she'll...

Something touches on my head. It feels like an outstretched hand, and I immediately go for the hilt of my katana. I'm still looking at Fuu, however. I know I will be able to tell by her face how immediate the danger is.

But, her mouth is drawn wide, not in a semblance of horror, but one of amusement. Her shoulders start shaking, and then she busts out into peals of laughter which echo through the forest.

I reach up and touch the thing on my head. Furry. Small. And it...

It bites my finger. I bite my tongue.

"Momosan, c'mere..." Fuu manages to call between laughs. The animal leaps off my head and glides over the fire onto Fuu's knee. "You better get back in, before Mugen tries to eat you!" The thing squirms around in her collar and then attempts to thrash its way deeper into Fuu's kimono. I look away, and pretend not to be utterly amused.

Suddenly, it is as if a weight is lifted. The tension is gone. Fuu is giggling and trying to get the animal to stop squirming. I poke at the fire with a long stick in an attempt to get it hot enough to cook whatever Mugen brings back. It is comfortable again. In the blink of an eye, things return to normal.

Fuu's power. Fuu's magic.

"Fuu." She stops squirming and looks over at me. "I am sorry I lost the map."

Fuu tilts her head and peers at me for a moment. "Were you thinking about that this whole time?"

Wasn't she? "I thought you were mad."

"No." She shakes her head, but continues to smile lightly. How does one approach the world with such tender happiness? "I was just teasing about that. Because... I mean I was mad, a little, but not about the map."

"About what, then?"

"Well, it's because..." Fuu swishes her lips back and forth. "It's because when you guys fight, and then come back bloody or scraped up, you always say 'It's nothing', or 'I'm fine'. It's like you don't even care that I'm worried about you. So, I thought I'd give you the silent treatment for once, to show you how it felt."

"But, you asked for the map."

"Yeah, guess I forgot." Fuu laughs and shakes her head. "You make it look easy, that not-talking thing." She quirks one of her eyebrows, crosses her arms, and leans back a little before muttering a small, "Hm". I think this is supposed to be her impression of me. She gives it up, and leans back on her hands. "So, I'm not mad anymore. Okay?"

I nod slightly, and go back to poking at the fire. The fact that this comforts me is an irksome concept. I need do nothing more than fulfill my promise to escort Fuu on her journey. Why should I care if she comes to loathe me in the process?

"There is no need to worry all the time," I finally say. "I do not plan on dying so precipitously."

"Okay, I'll make you a deal." Fuu jumps to her feet and points at me. "When I ask you if you're okay, you'll say, 'I'm alright, Fuu'. If you say my name, which you almost never do, I'll know that you understand that I'm worried. Alright?"

Who is this girl? How did this come to pass? The string of events which led us here is extraordinary and improbable. Who is this girl, this small creature which commands an elite force of two warriors, and seems to conquer Japan one footstep at a time? Who is this child, this person, this wind which blows us forward? This magnetic force which holds the three of us together? It's insane, really. I must have lost my sanity.

"Ara, Momosan! That tickles! Stop it! There isn't any food in there!"

She's just ordinary. She's just an ordinary girl with an extraordinary goal.

I look down at the fire, and I feel alive.

"Alright, Fuu. It's a deal."

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In Our Next Chapter: Our heros are still lost, and run into another small obstacle to their progress.

Author's Note: This isn't some grand fanfiction with an overarching plot or some wise insight. It's just some simple vignettes, something to leave you with a good feeling inside, I hope. :D


	2. Chapter 2: River Escapades

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Chapter Two: River Escapade

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I'm the first one to wake. I'm almost always the first one to wake. And, I like it that way. It's good to have some decent silence before those two start being loud and obnoxious. Plus, if at all possible, I like to get clean. That is a decent and respectable way to become focused and prepared for a day.

Fuu is mumbling in her sleep about wanting some dango. That barbarian, on the other hand, is snoring. Is it really such a good idea to sleep so soundly? I could never kill a man in his sleep. No, that is something I would definitely never do. On the other hand, I don't think bushido prohibits giving a sleeping man a few light wounds to teach him a lesson.

Hm.

I wander towards the sound of a nearby stream. A light fog obscures the more intricate details of my surroundings, blurring the world beyond a few paces. The morning's light, fragile and delicate, reminds me of those dim daybreaks at the dojo, before the other students arrived. Sensei would always go out and sit in the courtyard by the trees his late wife Nisa-san planted the year they were married. Old Orin-san would be cooking by the time I woke, and the faint smell of rice would waft around the dojo, beckoning the hungry. Breakfast with Sensei and Orin-san was always quiet, thoughtful, and pleasant.

Orin-san left the dojo before... Yes, before. I was glad. Sensei could no longer pay her, and had to let her go. It is good. She was a kindly woman, and to know what happened probably would have broken her heart.

I undress and bathe quickly, keeping my blades on a nearby rock. It is not a good idea to ever be more than an arm's length from your swords. The water is not a pleasant temperature, but discomfort is never a reason to keep from doing what should be done.

I don't even try to catch fish for breakfast.

The outdoors. It is not my forte.

I tie my hair up, and put on my glasses. A man should dress deliberately, mindful always of his movements. No movement should ever be extraneous, wasted.

That barbarian...wastes...everything. If he had a family name, it would be 'Wasteful'. But, criminal lowlifes don't have family names.

I make my way back to the camp and find that Fuu is awake, and eating already. I guess she likes to get her eating done before Mugen attacks it. I nod at her and sit down. Taking a piece of meat off the fire, I attempt to eat my breakfast at a reasonable pace, no despite my intense hunger.

It tastes surprisingly good, so that's easier said than done. It's strange, but Fuu is actually a very decent cook. Maybe it's all the restaurants she's worked at. Maybe it just comes with being a woman. I don't know.

"I'm going to go bathe," she says happily as she jumps to her feet.

I just nod. At least she bathes. That ruffian, on the other hand...

Smells. Really. Bad.

He smells like fish that's turned from being left out in the sun. No, he smells worse. Like sake, and blood, and vomit, and cheap diseased whores. He smells like the floor of the worst tavern in Edo.

He needs a bath.

I've only seen him bathe on purpose when there are women involved.

Fuu wanders off, murmuring to her animal as she does. I glance at Mugen. He's drooling.

I feel the corner of my lip twitch. Something about him... Something about him just...

"Quit watching me while I sleep, asshole."

Makes me want to kill. It makes me want to see blood flow.

I narrow my eyes slightly, and then turn away from him. "I was just imagining what you'll look like dead."

"Whatever, faggot." Mugen sits up, which in itself is a circus-like affair. I don't know if the man has any actual bones in his body. "Shit. Who ate all that food? We had like half of it left from last night, and now there's hardly any left..."

"She did."

"Damnit. That girl...she's..."

"A monster."

And there you have it. One of the few things on which we always agree.

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"You can't be serious." Mugen kicks at the ground. Pebbles and dirt go flying. "How in the fuck are we supposed to get across this?"

Fuu looks vexed. And then she looks at me. Apparently, she thinks I have a plan to get across the river. "Should we swim?"

"No." The water looks deep. Who knows what sort of currents are hiding beneath the surface. "We could follow along the bank until we find a bridge. Or a village."

"But, that's not even the right direction. We'll be going totally the wrong way."

"It can't be helped," I say.

Mugen kicks at the embankment again. Rocks tumble down into the water and disappear. "Remember that this isn't my fault. This is bushido-boy's fault. So don't blame me later."

I keep my face passive, but briefly consider perfecting a small sneer for such occasions. Then, we head west, along the bank.

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"Ungh, I'm hungry," Mugen says. He's in the front, occasionally using that 'weapon' of his to cut away brush.

"My feet hurt," Fuu mumbles. She's in the middle, and she keeps stumbling over roots and, well, her own feet.

"Hm." That's all I have to say about it.

"Hey! We should stop and fish for some lunch." Fuu is immediately on-task with her suggestion, stooping down to cut some long reeds for poles. Mugen starts kicking around in the dirt with his shoe, looking for worms.

I'm supposed to make the fire. After my humiliation from the last few attempts at fishing, I don't even try anymore. I start gathering kindling and make a pit while they set up for fishing.

I watch the two of them out of the corner of my eye as I get the fire started. Fuu is babbling about some restaurant she visited in one of the villages we passed, and how fat the cook was. Fuu says that you can always tell how good a dining establishment is by the girth of the cook.

When the fire is done, I go to sit on the other side of Fuu, and wait for then to pull something out of the water. Then I'm supposed to gut the fish, and stick it over the fire. This is the way things go. This is my role.

How strange it is. That we all somehow know exactly which roles we are supposed to play. Fuu keeps talking, chattering endlessly about this and that. She doesn't really expect our input, which is good, since I have nothing to say, and Mugen will invariably say something idiotic or inappropriate. It's not that she's a blabbermouth, it's just that she has a lot of pep. And she's not always talkative, just sometimes, just when it's right for her to be that way. Why it works this way, I do not know.

Mugen is fishing with his feet, just to prove that he can. Obnoxious.

Fuu catches something before too long, and hands it to me. I pull a clean sheet of paper out of my gi and get to work gutting it with my wakizashi. Hm. I doubt my ancestors ever realized that such a priceless blade would someday be used to clean a fish. It seems almost wrong to use a weapon this way, but I've gotten used to it over time.

The noises of the forest blend with Fuu's voice. The rushing water of the river, the crackle of our fire, the slight summer breeze in the treetops. There is a strange harmony of these things, which blur together in the background of my mind to produce an almost eerie calm. Calm. I've always prided myself on being the center of calmness, poised and collected, but this seems so very different... So very...

"Momosan, don't go out that far. You're going to..."

I turn my head just in time to see Fuu reaching for the animal, which has climbed out on a reed over the rushing water. She's bent at an awkward angle, because she's trying to keep ahold of her fishing pole whilst retrieving the animal at the same time.

"No, don't!" But, I'm too far away. Her ankle twists on the loose dirt of the embankment, and she falls backwards into the river. I'm diving to catch her foot, but the splash of water obscures my view for a moment. I can't even see what I'm leaping towards.

My hand catches something solid. There's only a brief instant to see what it is before I'm yanked towards the river. It's a foot alright, with a tattooed ankle. Everything moves sluggishly, time unravels in an uneven staccatto. I see Mugen's hand clutching Fuu's wrist. Fuu's face bobs to the surface for an instant and then disappears.

This is a bad situation. I remember what Orin-san told me once, that a girl's kimono can easily get stuck around her legs, making it impossible for her to kick and stay afloat. And Mugen isn't faring much better. Because I've got his left foot, and he's holding onto Fuu with his right hand, he's stretched out face-down in the water. If he flips over, he risks either losing Fuu, or breaking her arm.

There's a moment of tranquil lucidity. I know, right then, that we'll either all make it through this together, or we'll all drown right here. My feet rapidly skid down the loose, muddy embankment. The force of the pull is incredible. I have this odd moment of satisfaction in knowing that I was right about the currents.

I see Fuu's head come up again as my left leg slips into the water. Dreadful cold. It must be water from the mountaintops. She's gasping. Mugen's fingers slip from her wrist, but he manages to catch her hand. I save for later my amazement at the fact that he doesn't let her go and save himself.

I'm in the river to my sternum by the time my other hand, the one that is blindly grasping for something, anything, to hold onto, finally catches a clump of long reeds. But, my hand is so muddy that it slips, not once, but twice, before I'm able to get a good grip. I yank on Mugen's arm to let him know to get ready, and then summon all my strength.

This will take...all three of us...

Mugen flies out first when I pull, and ends up face-first in the reeds. Fuu lands higher up on the embankment, likely due to the additional power of Mugen's pull.

We all spend a few moments climbing to higher ground and catching our breath. We're all soaked, even me. I roll over onto my back and look up at the sky. Bright. Clear. Cloudless. Tranquil. It's the same sort of feeling I had after watching Shino disappear into the mist on that boat. It's the feeling of doing something for someone else, not because of the code of bushido, but because your gut says it's the right thing to do.

"You stupid girl," Mugen grumbles, "You made me lose my fish! I was just about to catch something. Oh man, I'm fucking soaked."

I look to the left. Fuu is sitting up and wringing the water out of her kimono. With it wet like that, it clings to her body. She looks even smaller, even younger. Mugen must see it, too, because he stops complaining and shakes his head. And I mean -shakes- his head, like a dog. Water sprays off of him and hits both Fuu and myself. I attempt to put one hand up between the spray and my face.

"I was just trying to catch Momosan before it... Oh no! Momosan!" The animal, on hearing Fuu's voice, scampers out of the reeds and onto Fuu's shoulder. Lucky devil didn't even get wet. "Hey Jin, you okay?"

"Aa," I say, and then remember our previous discussion. "I am fine, Fuu."

She smiles widely, even though she's shivering, as if the brush with death is instantly forgotten. "Hey, but, at least we got Mugen to take a bath."

"What?" He gets in her face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You reeked," I say. And then I feel it. Something...something abrasive is moving against my stomach. What the...? I sit up quite suddenly and look down.

"Geez, Jin, you just turned pale. And that's saying a lot, considering..."

I reach into my gi and attempt to find the source of the discomfort. Could I have sliced myself open on a stick or something?

I pull my hand out of my shirt and stare in awe and some amount of horror at the object in my grasp.

Fuu laughs. Mugen laughs, too.

"Fuck me stupid," Mugen says between snorts, "Jin finally caught a fish."

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	3. Chapter 3: Unbreakable Promises

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Chapter Three: Unbreakable Promises

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Sometimes, I don't sleep. Sometimes, I can't sleep. Sometimes, nothing is right with the world at night. And, even when we're not being watched, sometimes I dread to sleep.

It's not fear, I tell myself. I know that I can match any opponent. It's just that my most vivid memory of ever having to wake up was the night when Sensei came to kill me. No, I don't fear sleeping, but sometimes I just don't relish the thought of waking up.

It happened so fast. All I knew is that I was being attacked, and that I had to defend. It wasn't until he fell backwards that I saw, I realized, I knew what had happened. Sensei, how could you try to kill me in my sleep? That is not the way. That was not -our- way. If you would have challenged me, forthright and honestly, I would have fought you. After all the things you taught me about honor, about courage, about loyalty, how could you have done such a thing?

Was it because you didn't want to look me in the eye when we fought? If you knew what you were doing was wrong... Then, why? You were always a good man, decent, fair and wise. Somehow, I feel as if your fall was partially my failing. I should have done something. I should have found a way for you to have a different option, one besides selling out the school to such a horrible and dishonorable fate.

Sometimes, I stay awake, thinking about these things.

Sensei always said I spent too much time thinking.

But, when we're lost in the woods, there's just too much time to think.

I think about what an absolute waste my life has been. I'm trained as a swordsman, but I was never in a war, never in the service of a respected lord. It wasn't until after I killed my own sensei that I began to put my sword skills to use in real situations. So, what meaning then does my life have? To merely protect myself? To survive, and nothing else?

Sensei, you destroyed me. You did not fail that night when you drew your sword and sought my life.

Why do I persist in living? If only one of them could kill me, this inane farce would end. Have I considered it? Considered slowing myself by just a fraction when one of sensei's other students lunges for my throat? Yes. I've considered it. But, allowing myself to die so easily would be contrary to the standards of fighting. That would be suicide, and if a man chooses to take his own life, he should do it through the ritual of seppuku. He should not thrust such a choice, such dark karma, upon another combatant.

No. I can not take my own life, or allow it so easily to be taken. Suicide would mean that I believe myself to be in the wrong, as far as my sensei's death is concerned. And, I do not believe that I acted inappropriately. Could I have acted in any other way?

Sensei, sensei... When my parents died, you took me into your dojo. You showed me boundless kindness and wisdom. I just can't... I can't believe...

It's night. Above, the moon looks like an ugly scar cut into the endless sky. The stars are glimmering pinpricks of blood. Deep within the forest, a lone cicada rouses from slumber and screams.

I feel my jaw clench, and I don't even know why.

I should go. I should leave these two. We're close enough to Nagasaki, so what does it matter? Forget my promise to Fuu. Forget killing Mugen. I need to forget this journey, and forget these people. I just need to focus, and I need to find...

Something. I need to find something. Some sort of proof. Proof of... Proof of what, exactly? It irks me that I don't know the answer.

I stand, pick up my straw hat, and look at them. Fuu is sleeping, but neglected to take off her shoes. Mugen is sleeping extremely close to the fire. Maybe he'll burn off his hair. Even I would laugh at that.

I put on my hat, and tie it tightly. I'll go east. No. North. The last village was three or four days ago. Yes, I'll go. This is sensible. This is proper.

Fuu has the sort of personality which can weather disappointments. She'll survive. And I've been traveling with them long enough to know that Mugen won't hurt her. Not intentionally. Even that barbarian doesn't rough up women unless that's the sort of thing they enjoy.

A man should always keep his promise. A man's word, his vow, his oath is not retractable. But, following such a tenet too blindly or fastidiously is improper. If one comes to the realization that one has erred in making such a promise, based on false assumptions, shouldn't one retract the promise based on one's moral misgivings?

It's a delicate ethical situation. In times past, I would have sought sensei's advice.

I must not waver. Hesitation is death. Fearing guilt leads to regret, and regret is a weakness a samurai can not abide.

North. I will go north.

I will not look at them as I leave. Yes, this is decided. I was never here. I will leave no trace of my existence behind. In a very short time, they won't even remember the other person with which they were traveling.

I won't look down at Fuu as I step past her. I won't glare at Mugen. I'll just go north.

It's deep summer, so there are few leaves to crunch underfoot. Between the trees lay soft tufts of shadowy green. In a few hours, dew will make the grass slick and dangerous. But, for now, I travel silently away from the camp, surefooted and determined.

With every step, I am lighter. If I walk far enough, will I find something? Will I find anything?

Surely, this is the best decision. It is the honorable decision. I will think no more about this. I will put it firmly out of mind and focus on what comes next. There is only one place to go. Back to Edo. Back to Edo.

I will write Fuu a letter once I am there. Though, I am not sure quite how I will get it to her. Nor am I certain what I should say. No, this is a preposterous idea. It is better if I just cut off all contact altogether.

I should meditate. Walking meditation. The monks do it sometimes. They walk a bit more slowly, however, concentrating on the mechanics of each step, attempting to feel each muscle as it flexes and contracts. When you concentrate on something you do naturally, it becomes a wonder. You realize the complexity of every movement of the human body.

When I was barely even old enough to be able to lift a real katana, Sensei used to make me walk around the dojo with the writings of Imagawa Ryoshun, author of many of the most respected tenets of bushido, balanced on my head. The lesson of this was twofold. First, extraneous movements quickly become apparent, and a person learns to only move deliberately. Second is the lesson that a man can not walk his path unless his entire body is balanced with bushido.

I hated it, at the time. But, it was a good lesson. Had I taken over the dojo, I would have taught the same lesson to my own students.

The forest becomes denser and lighter at irregular intervals. I must be choosy about my steps sometimes. Hakama aren't exactly designed for forest travel. No. They assist in obfuscating the leg movements of a samurai, so that his opponent can not as easily predict the next move. Good for duels on bridges. Less good when trying not to get tangled in the underbrush.

I've been walking for some time now, and have managed to keep my focus on the singular task of moving forward. Perhaps, come sunrise, I will find somewhere to sleep. A tree, maybe?

I think briefly of my mother, for some reason. I have very few memories of my parents. But, I do recall the plum tree in our yard, and how my mother used to lift me up to pluck fruit from the lowest branches. "Jin," she'd say, "Pick one for your father, too." I thought I was being some sort of great help to her. It wasn't until I went back to that house, some time after Sensei died, when I realized exactly how low those branches were, and that she could have picked those plums by herself. This is the betrayal of the mind, which leads you into thinking you're doing something good for someone else, when actually...you're useless.

Ahead, I spy a flickering light cutting a swatch of brilliance into the endless forest. A fire? Who knows what sort of people live in this area. Bandits, perhaps? Or hunters looking for game? I suppose I should check it out, especially since it is possible that they will know the shortest route out of this labyrinth of trees.

I'll approach cautiously. I should not wish to alarm anyone by...

What the...? This is impossible. I went north. I was walking north the entire time!

I make my way into the clearing, and stare with mild confusion at the occupants of the camp.

Since I left, Fuu has kicked off her shoes.

And Mugen has rolled away from the fire.

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In Our Next Chapter: A confrontation between Jin and Mugen. And, maybe I'll even give this story some plot, or something.

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far. I'm glad you enjoy this somewhat rambling story about what goes on in Jin's head. So, special thanks to: peeps, Ouatic-7 (I fixed that error. Thanks for pointing it out.), Kaylana, poornmiserable, PegasusRider, ithilfea, enroute, Phi-Dono, Darkness-ninja, Maria, Elementary Magpie, randomperson, Pyrric Lotus, and Anrixan.


	4. Chapter 4: Waking or Asleep

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Chapter Four: Waking or Asleep

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Light and airy, the music washes over me, cleansing, relieving, absolving. I wish to live within it, inside of a note, locked in this song. Music sheds no blood. You never hear of wars being fought for music. A samurai never dies wishing his ears had been filled with one less song.

This is not Sara-san's song, the moving elegy of the goze. No, her song bespoke tragedy, longing, and unfathomable sadness. This music, the music which surrounds me now, coaxes life from that which never before knew of life. This tune bathes sadness in hope, washes longing with friendship, and provides a smile amongst tragedies.

I shall come to rest here, within this song. Still. Motionless. It seems to me like a pond with no waves to disturb the surface of the water. No breeze mars the reflection of the sky.

And a faraway voice gratingly disturbs my stillness by grumbling, "Stop humming. What are you so fucking happy about, anyway?"

"Shh, Jin's still asleep."

"Fuck if I care what he's doing."

Where has the music gone? I try to stretch out a hand to find it, but can't find my hand. I've dissolved into raw nothingness. I'm a million specks of dust, bouncing about in the ether. I've been shattered and reconfigured into something which owns no identity.

"It's so funny, isn't it? I hardly ever get to see him asleep, since he almost always wakes up before us. What do you think he dreams about, Mugen?"

"That guy? He probably dreams about meditating or boring shit like books. Look at him. He has the same expression on his face whether he's awake or asleep. My kabuto beetle had more personality than that rock."

"I bet he dreams about really complicated things. Like shogi moves or tea ceremony. Jin's so smart. I think he really would make a good teacher, you know. In a dojo or otherwise."

Mugen snorts. "Smart? Are we talking about the same guy, here?"

Alright, now I actually am awake, but I'm listening in on the conversation. Perhaps that is a bit dishonest. Perhaps I am a bit too tired to care. I don't feel like opening my eyes yet, that's all. It's not my fault that they are speaking so loudly.

"Yeah, you're right. In a way, he's also stupid, too. But, well, you know what I mean." I hear Fuu shift her weight. "He's kinda strange, Jin is... I don't always understand him. But, I guess.. Jin's just Jin. And Fuu is Fuu. And Mugen is Mugen."

"Did you think that up by yourself?"

"Huh? Wait, quit eating all the food. Save some for Jin."

"Che. Right. You're still eating, too."

After that, I just hear the two of them racing to wolf down their breakfasts. I suppose I should actually pretend to wake up now, and grab some food before those two...

"Geez, that's really strange. Jin never sleeps this long,." There's a rustling, and then light footsteps pad towards where I am sitting. I fell asleep leaning against a tree again. I don't like to sleep laying down. It's too precarious of a position. "You think we should wake him up, Mugen?"

I still don't understand how I could have ended up back here. Was walking around in the forest just a dream? If it was, then why am I so incredibly tired?

Mugen grunts something about how he couldn't care less what she does. There's a light tap on my shoulder. Fuu's fingers. She stops for a moment, and then taps again. "Jin? Um, it's morning, so..."

"I'm awake," I say.

"Oh? Oh, well, that's good."

"I've been awake."

"What?" Fuu stands up. When I open my eyes, I see her looking down at me, her lips pursed together, and one hand clenched into a little fist. "You...! Why didn't you say something?"

"You didn't ask."

Mugen scratches his head and proceeds to belch. When he's finished being revolting, he says, "I knew he was awake."

Now Fuu looks even more annoyed. She turns around and stomps her foot. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You didn't ask," Mugen says. I wonder if he uses the same words I just used for the express purpose of annoying me. "Besides, it's fucking obvious. That asshole always keeps one hand on his katana when he's sleeping. He doesn't let go until he wakes up."

I look down. My sword is still leaning against my shoulder. But, my hand has slipped from my grip on the sheath and is now laying ony my knee. I didn't even know that I did this. Do I really let only let go of my katana when I wake up and realize it is safe? Probably so.

"If I didn't hold onto it, you'd steal it."

Mugen scowls, and grabs the last fish off the fire. He glares at me while biting into it. "Hungry?" He licks along the length of what remains of the fish. Moron slobber. "I'll give you half."

"Geez!" Fuu throws up her hands. "Can you two quit being children for five minutes?"

"It's his fault."

I hate the fact that he and I say it simultaneously.

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We're traveling west, still along the bank of the river. Fuu is trying to get us to play a game with her. It goes like this: she asks us a very strange question, and then we're supposed to answer it.

It's not exactly my sort of game, because there are no real rules, and it's endless. No one ever wins. It's actually impossible to win.

But, both of us continue to play. If we didn't, the boredom would be overwhelming. I tried a bit of concurrent sleeping and walking about an hour ago, and ended up running into Fuu's back.

I apologized, and told her my glasses were dirty.

"Okay!" Fuu claps her hands together, and looks at the sky for a moment. "Mmm. Next question! Ummm. Okay, if you were trapped on a deserted island, and you could have only one possession, what would it be? Jin! You first."

"My katana."

Fuu sighs a bit, and mumbles something about that being a truly boring and predictable answer. "Alright, how about you, Mugen?"

"That's stupid. I wouldn't get trapped on an island. I spent half my life trying to get OFF of a damn island."

"It's just a hypothetical situation," I say.

"I don't care how hyper-tentacle the question is. It's stupid. I'd never get stuck on an island."

His idiocy is night palpable. I need a bath to wash off the stupidity. "You realize Japan is an island, right?"

"Che. If only it were more deserted, maybe it wouldn't suck so much." Mugen briefly looks over his shoulder at me, and attempts a meaningful sneer. "Fine. I'd want several bolts of cloth."

Fuu claps her hands together. Apparently, this is the sort of answer she was seeking. "So you could make a tent?"

"No. For sails. To put on my raft. So I can get off the damn island."

Fuu thinks for a moment, and then declares, "I'd want a whole bucket of dango."

"That's not very useful," I say.

"Yeah. After you eat it, then what?"

Fuu sighs, as if it's the happiest thought she's ever had. "Then I'd watch the sunset on a full stomach."

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Fuu gives up on her game around the time Mugen declares that if he could be any animal, he'd be a woman, so that he could molest himself all day long, and...

Well, it's better if I just don't repeat the rest of what he said.

We walk in silence for some time. I'm actually somewhat amazed. It's been several days now since we've had to fight anyone. Perhaps this will continue until our journey is complete. Perhaps, but unlikely.

At least the weather has been decent.

When night falls, we set up our camp in the usual manner. Mugen manages to catch a rabbit. This causes Fuu to pray over the 'poor little bunny', but she eats as voraciously as ever. After dinner, she plays with her animal for a while, murmuring on occasion that she would never eat it, no matter how hungry she might become. Mugen finds a long stick and uses it to scratch his back. I try to meditate, but get nowhere on the endeavor. I just keep wondering about last night, and how I ended up back where I began.

I just don't know. Did I walk in a circle on purpose? Does it mean something? Or does it just mean that I have no sense for the woods in the dark?

I must doze off at one point, because when I open my eyes, they're both asleep, and the fire has gone from a crackling blaze to the soft glow of hot coals. That's strange. I never doze off like that.

My face feels sticky and hot, as if I have been sweating despite the cool night. I decide to go splash some water on it. I stand and head for the river. We still haven't found a bridge, but the water no longer seems as deep or as fast. Perhaps tomorrow, I'll suggest we swim. Maybe we could construct some sort of makeshift bridge by felling a couple of tall trees.

I kneel beside the river, and dip my hands into the water. It's refreshing, so I splash my face several times.

That's when I hear footsteps. Something flies through the air at me. From my crouched position, I draw my katana, spin, and slash it in twain.

"You didn't take your hat this time." The two pieces of my straw hat land beside my right foot. "I thought I'd put it beside your head after I slice the damn thing off."

It's Mugen. He's standing about ten paces away, his arms crossed, and his ugly face twisted into a scowl.

"You knew." How odd. I thought he was asleep the whole time. And if he wasn't, why didn't he chase me down and try to kill me?

"Yeah. I knew. Except, I didn't think you were going to come back."

"I wasn't."

Mugen sneers. I can actually see his teeth. "You're a fucking coward."

I grip the hilt of my katana as I stand, but stand slowly. I feel strange. I think, perhaps, the shock of the cold water on my face has left me a bit dizzy. Nonetheless, I will not allow such things to be said. I did not leave because of fear. I left because it was proper. Of course, someone like Mugen would never understand the concept of doing something that is right just because it is right. "I do not wish to endanger Fuu any longer. I was going to return to Edo...to turn myself in to the authorities."

"Yeah. Like I said. You're a damn coward. You're the only person I've ever met who isn't afraid of anything except his damn self." He's staring me down now. Waiting, like a starved hawk, just waiting for me to falter. "You'd rather put your head on the bakufu's chopping block than brave reality, is that it? It's pathetic, and it disgusts me."

I see it in my mind. I imagine it, as I have imagined it before. My katana, right through his ribs. It's pointless to try to stab a man through his heart. The organ is smaller than you'd think. But, if you puncture the lungs, a man will drown in his own blood. And I'm strangling him with my free hand, watching as the blood spills down his chin onto the back of my wrist. Little rivulets form on my forearm, as the blood snakes down to my elbow and then plunges to the ground. Drip. Drip. Drip.

And, Fuu is nearby, screaming, screaming for me to stop. Begging. Pleading. She says this isn't me. This isn't the Jin she knows. How could I do this? She really believed in me. Before she runs away, she calls me a monster.

I feel ill. My stomach contracts rather painfully. It's not the vision so much as the knowledge that he might be right. I am always fleeing. Not fights. I don't fear what I can face with my sword. I now realize that the true terror is that I might care for someone, for something. Such things are transient, an illusion, a mirage in the desert.

Just like sensei was.

If Fuu came to realize... If she thought of me as a murderer, as bloodthirsty monster...

"Heh. It's always the quiet ones who are worried about being transparent." Mugen spits into the dirt. "Raise your katana at me. Give me a fucking reason to show you how transparent you really are."

I feel my left knee give out. My head... No, my vision isn't right. Everything is tilted. I must hold onto my katana. "As if you're any better. At least I don't go through life trying to prove my own worth to myself." He's motionless as I glare at him. I try to keep my words level, but they come of their own accord, clipped and biting. "That's it, isn't it? The world threw you away, so you have to prove to the world that it was wrong. That's..." I'm definitely closer to the ground than I was just a few moments ago. "That's...pathetic."

"You don't know anything. Smart, my ass." But, I can hear in his voice that he knows I'm right. We're both brutal to each other when Fuu isn't around. Swords or no swords. Mugen's face becomes an unstable blob. "Oi! What the fuck is wrong with you? Stand up so I can kick your ass, you four-eyed faggot."

My hand is in the dirt. Gritty. Loamy. I've got to figure out some way to prop myself up. Something is dreadfully wrong, here. Especially since I say 'Get Fuu', but it sounds like I actually mutter, "Eat shit." Maybe my hearing is off. Maybe what I've been dreading for a while is finally coming true. I've gone insane, and my particular insanity has a very stark resemblance to Mugen's personality.

Something is kicking me in the head. "Oi! Quit trying to die. I haven't even begun to kill you yet!"

Mugen disappears. Things go a bit hazy. I can hear the water. I know it's close, but for some reason, the sky seems closer. I try to lift my hand to push the sky away, but movement just makes my head swim. I'm on the ground. There's a cricket somewhere with an obnoxiously loud chirp trying to keep me from being blissfully asleep.

"Jin!" I wish Fuu's head would stay in one place. "Jin, what's wrong? Are you injured? Mugen, what did you do to him?"

"Don't blame me. Whatever's wrong with him, he did it to his goddamn self."

There's a pressure on my forehead. Cold. "He's got a fever."

A fever? How improbable. I've never been sick in my life. Obviously, someone poisoned me. Hm. There's Fuu's face again. She looks upset. This is going to put another hitch in her trip, I guess. First I lose the map, and now this. Maybe I can trick her into leaving me here. "I'm alright, Fuu."

"That's not even going to work this time, you idiot. Why didn't you tell us you were sick?"

Frankly, I didn't know. And, even if I did, what was I supposed to say about it? It's not like we're within range of a doctor. I guess, if I at least realized it, maybe I'd try to wander off somewhere and take care of it, myself...

Oh, wait. I did try to wander off somewhere. How odd. It's just a coincidence, though. Surely, just a coincidence.

"Mugen, you know anything that's good for a fever?"

"Alcohol and a swift kick in the head will help him pass out and sleep it off. We don't got any alcohol, but if you want me to kick him in the head..."

"Be serious!"

"Well, what do you want from me?"

"I don't know. Get some medicinal herbs or something." Fuu grabs my hand. It's an odd sensation. Any other time, I'd feel uncomfortable about it. But, right now, it's almost reassuring. "It's going to be alright, Jin."

There's a look in Fuu's eyes, a look of terror. Someone close to her... Someone must have died of some sort of fever. You can tell. I know fear like I know the hilt of my katana.

I don't like fear coming from Fuu. It's not right. It just makes me feel worse. Already, I've hurt her. Already, I've begun to hurt someone else. I've got to try to get myself together. So she won't be afraid. I let go of her hand, and then force myself to sit up. "I just need rest." Rest, and for the world to stop spinning. I lurch to the side a bit. How undignified.

"If you think I'm going to carry him back to camp, you're dead wrong."

"Mugen! I told you to get some medicinal herbs."

"Hey. I don't know if you remember or not, but I'm not from here! I don't know any damn Japanese medicinal herbs. Fuck. I don't even know any Ryukyuuan medicinal herbs."

I finally make it to my feet. Fuu stands, too, and offers to let me lean on her. But, that's too awkward, due to the difference in our heights. Besides, she's tiny. I'd be worried that I'd fall on her, which would be both painful, and rather indecent. It's just a fever, after all. I continue to wonder how this happened. I'm still putting my money on poison.

I make it half way back to camp, and then I collapse.

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My parents died of consumption. Many people do. I was not there when they died. They'd already sent me away to live with a family friend, a man who had studied kenjutsu with my father, and who now owned his own dojo. Even as young as I was, I knew they were dying, and that I would never see them again. But, I didn't cry when I left with Mariya-sensei. I didn't want my parents to know that I knew how sick they were. I wanted them to think I was ignorant, so they wouldn't worry about me being upset over something they could not change.

At first, I studied kenjutsu because I was angry with my parents for leaving me alone in the world. There is no better way to constructively remove anger from your system than practicing shinai swings until your hands are raw and blistered. It is difficult to shake your fist at the sky when you've worked your arm muscles into throbbing pulp.

Then, I studied kenjutsu because I figured that if I didn't succeed, sensei would send me away. After I realized that he had no intention of getting rid of me, I still continued to study kenjutsu.

Because, by then, I had nothing else.

Sometimes, I have this recurring dream. I'm watching sensei fight, fight for real. Some two-bit thugs have been beating up on one of the poorer students. I guess he'd gone into debt to some money-lenders, and couldn't pay. They chase him to the dojo, and that's when sensei steps into the fray. He tells them to leave, that only students of the dojo were allowed to fight there. They don't listen.

How fast he was... So fast. So immediate. He kills them before I can even finish one breath and take another. I can only stare at the three men laying in the courtyard, their blood leaking into the dirt, pooling in the footprints of absent students. I know, I know I should be horrified, but I am thrilled. I am awed. The incredible magnitude of the power of the katana has never been so clear.

Justice. Law. Honor. It all rests on the blade. Righteousness. Courage. Strength. These things exist in their purest form only in the moment that a swordsman decides to live on the precipice between life and death.

The next day, the student who fled to the dojo for protection is expelled from the school. "The blood of your error is on my hands," Sensei tells the youth, "A man should not borrow money if he can not repay. It is better that he should fall into squalor with his pride than live comfortably in shame. You are no longer welcome here."

Those words. Those words. How could sensei forget his own words? Better that the Mujuu Shinken Dojo fall into squalor with pride, than live comfortably as morally bankrupt assassins in shame. How could he forget?

Sensei literally turns his back on the young man. As do we all, following sensei's example. Still, the student begs and pleads sensei's forgiveness. And when none is forthcoming, that student commits seppuku in the courtyard whilst the entire school pointedly ignores his existence.

All of us, except for me.

I turn back around, and I watch.

And, I'm still watching, in my dream. Watching a young man, whose name I've long forgotten, stare at sensei's back as he kneels in the dirt. I'm watching as he draws his wakizashi, and begs that sensei forgive him for disgracing the school with his actions. I do not turn away when he draws open his yukata, and plunges the blade into his gut.

I'm watching as he falls to the ground, his cheek pressed to the dirt, his eyes still turned toward the engawa in the hopes that sensei will spare him one last look, that in his final moments, sensei will tell him he has done the right thing. I watch as he waits for forgiveness...

Which never comes.

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In Our Next Chapter: Jin's fever-induced dreams have him trapped in the past. Will his friends be able to save him? Will they ever find their way out of the forest? And who is this strange old woman? Stay tuned for more!

Special thanks to all the reviewers and readers! I'm glad you're enjoying the story, because I sure am enjoying writing it. I know it's not the most romantic or exciting story around, so just the fact that you've given it a chance means a lot to me.

Special thanks to: peeps, foxmagic, Maria, Phi-dono, Rashaka, en route, don'tbreakme, and Darkness-ninja!


	5. Chapter 5: Katana Abduction

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Chapter Five: Katana Abduction

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Shino-san.

Sometimes, recently, I dream of Shino-san.

I never dream of her in the brothel. That night remains locked away, somewhere safe, someplace where it can't even be tarnished by my dreams.

I liked her better, anyway, dressed as a merchant's wife. Without all that paint on her face. Without the smell of a dozen other men on her. Not locked away. I liked it when she was free to stop and sell eel with me. Free to tell me that I was very bad at my part-time job. I liked it when she was free to criticize me, not in a way that felt degrading or insulting, but in a way that lacked artifice or spite.

What drew us together, I don't know. And, I don't know if we will ever be together again. Shino-san must be free to live her life. Shino-san must be free to make her own choices. If I were to return to her, would she feel beholden to me for helping her escape? Would she resent the fact that I paid money to be with her?

After this journey, I could return to Shino-san. I could, but I mustn't. Expecting her to be mine invalidates what I wanted so desperately for Shino-san. I wanted her to be able to live her own life, make her own choices. I will not turn the sincerity of my time with Shino-san into a falsehood, a calculated ruse to possess her.

In the end, it must be Shino-san who chooses to come to me when _her_ journey is done.

Until then, I meet her in my dreams. We stand on the bridge together, in the rain, and watch the rushing water of the canal. We share her umbrella.

"The smell of rain, I can never remember it when the sun is shining."

I don't even notice the scent until she speaks of it. But, there it is, pervasive and comforting. The smell of droplets on leaves, of moisture suspended in air. It's heavy like a fistful of earth, yet lighter than the musky perfumes of the flowers it cleanses. Shino-san's presence brings an awareness of things I tend to take for granted about the world.

In the distance, lightning brightens small sections of the sky as it moves from cloud to cloud. I feel Shino-san move closer to me, until her shoulder presses against my upper arm. I can just barely smell her hair, and it smells of badly cooked eel. Somehow, this is more alluring than all than any fragrant blossom in Japan.

"You're scared of lightning?"

"No. Well, perhaps, a little. When it's so close." She keeps her gaze on the clouds, but smiles softly and naturally. "It's beautiful, don't you think? Strange that something so majestic should be so destructive."

"Hm." She's right. Nature seems to enjoy such paradoxes. The things which capture our imagination tend to be the things that do us in. Fire. Rushing rivers. Wild animals. Perhaps even an illusive Sunflower Samurai.

Shino-san looks over at me. "Do you think it laments being lightning? Or does it revel in being the rain's violent companion?"

I don't really know how to answer. I feel momentarily stupid and speechless. It's disconcerting, since I like to believe I have answers for most of the questions people could ask. Even in my dreams, Shino-san likes to challenge me to think as if I were not the center of my own world.

"Lightning knows of nothing but being lightning," I finally say.

Shino-san laughs a little, so quietly that I barely even hear it. "You don't have to take _all_ of the questions seriously, Jin."

I glance at her. I have an inkling that I should feel insulted, but I don't. I look down at our feet. Hers are smaller, of course, and her tabi are whiter than mine. Her feet are close together, with her heels touching. Mine are spread apart enough to give me enough speed and balance to move instantly into an attack should it be necessary.

I think of unserious questions, and of the game Fuu was playing before. Perhaps Shino-san would like it. Frankly, I'm just curious to find out her answer.

"If you were trapped on an island," I say evenly, "And you could bring only one object, any object, with you…"

Shino-san cuts me off. She doesn't even have to think about it. "Your katana. I'd want your katana."

It's such a strange answer. What good would my katana do her on a deserted island? Surely, if she were to take a blade, a tanto would be more useful.

I look down at my katana. A drop of rain finds its way to the tsuba and slides over the lightning pattern in the metal.

When I look up, Shino-san is gone.

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There's dirt in my mouth. There are few things more revolting in the world than waking up to a mouthful of gritty dirt. I'd almost rather wake up to Mugen's sword leveled at my jugular..

I manage to get my eyes open. Splotches of light interweaved with blobs of darkness dapple my field of vision. It takes a few moments to realize that I am lying on my back, looking up at the sky through the branches of trees. I try to glance around without moving my head too much. Sound pulses in and out. Birds. Wind. Footsteps. I look for large swatches of specific colors. Pink will be Fuu. Red will be Mugen.

They are standing some distance away. Fuu gestures wildly. She keeps pointing off in the distance. Mugen yawns, and shrugs. Then he points in the same direction. I can't make out what they are saying.

My vision takes on a bluish tint. My skin feels wrong. This can't possibly be my skin. Hot and impossibly cold, both at the same time. Is this sickness? Is this the grief which afflicts so many? If so, why are there so many samurai, so many as to make the status almost worthless, and so few doctors? Surely, the ability to cause the cessation of such symptoms is even more important than I previously realized. And the medical knowledge possessed by foreigners… The absurdity of rejecting it merely based on their country of origin becomes instantly clear to me.

"Quit bitching and just go." I finally catch a snippet of their conversation. It's Mugen, and he sounds more nefarious than usual.

Fuu looks at him for a long moment. "It just doesn't seem right. Jin's so sick, and…"

"You've got to be kidding me. Have we been traveling with the same asshole?" Mugen sticks his thumb out at me without even looking my direction. "That fucker ain't gonna die until I make him dead. Got it? Now, get going. And try not to get killed on the way. You still owe me twelve mon from last week."

"Mugen! You owe _me_ twelve mon. It was my money that you gambled with."

"Yeah, but I made the bet, so the winnings were mine."

I can't believe they're arguing over money in the middle of the forest while I'm sweating enough to irrigate a rice field. How did I get into this? I certainly should have picked a different restaurant to run into that day.

I feel like something is wrong with the way I am dressed. Maybe it's just the discomfort of being laid out on my back. And why does my left hand feel so sore?

I try to keep visual track of Fuu and Mugen. I don't get it. Is Fuu really leaving? I suppose I can't blame her. It's probably the best decision to make, at the moment. She has someplace she wants to be. Besides, what if I'm contagious? What if I have something dangerous? Yes. It is absolutely sensible for her to leave. I'm actually glad Mugen is making her go. It's for her own good.

And, for mine. I don't like people to see me when I am less than at my best.

Still, it's a bit worrisome. Fuu might get herself into trouble. She's far too trusting, just like she was with that painter. I'm just trying to protect Fuu from her own naiveté.

Of course, that mangy dog-man doesn't even care. It has nothing to do with him if Fuu gets herself hurt. Sometimes, I really have to wonder what goes on in his head. I mean, is it honestly possible for a person to live as he does? In abject stupidity, and continual moral bankruptcy? It seems impossible that a man should be able to live so long on just luck and instinct. His mere longevity is proof that he is guarded by something unnatural and possibly infernal. All the more reason for me to kill him.

Fuu leaves. I see her wander into the forest and disappear from view. She didn't even tell me goodbye. That's fine. No fuss. I didn't have anything in particular to say to her, anyway.

Mugen leans against the tree for a long while, watching me. He knows I'm awake. And he knows that I know that he knows that I'm awake. He's waiting for Fuu to be out of earshot. I just know it.

Great. I'm ill, and I'm stuck with that Ryukyuu reject. If we fight, I'll be at a severe disadvantage, and I'll need to…

Oh. No.

My katana. Where is my katana?

"Looking for these?" Mugen holds up the objects in question. One wakizashi, and one katana. My priceless daisho.

That wretch. This is inconceivable. What sort of foul parasite would steal a sick man's weapons?

"Aw, c'mon. Make an angry face for me. Make a really angry face, and I'll throw you the wakizashi." Mugen proceeds to scratch his head with the end of my wakizashi's sheath. Just what I've always wanted, Mugen's scalp flakes adoring my weaponry. "Nope. That's the same ugly fucking face you always have."

"Return my weapons."

"Nah, I don't think I will. Maybe I'll come up with some sort of two-sword method. Heh. That might make me even deadlier." Mugen smacks his lips a bit as he draws the katana out of the sheath. "You keep it nice and sharp, too. I bet I could rob a lot of people by just showin' them this blade. They'd be scared shitless, huh?"

I've got to sit up. I can do it. I've had worse. If I can make it to my feet, maybe I can gather enough strength for one good lunge. But, when I try to push myself up with my hand, pain shoots through my fingers, across my palm, and into my wrist. That's…odd. So, instead, I try my other hand. It seems to work slightly better, and I eventually manage to work myself into a sitting position. Granted, I'm leaning against my hand, but at least I am relatively less horizontal than I was a minute ago.

Mugen grins at my struggles. "Well, I'll consider your daisho as payment for dragging you back to the camp. 'Cause I sure as hell didn't do it for my health." Hm. That explains the dirt in my mouth, I guess.

"But, I might lend it back to you for our fight if you decide not to die out here."

"Unacceptable."

"Tough shit." I hate that look on his face. That look like he finally has me just where he wants me. The smug look of a man who is truly reveling in the fact that he has the upper hand. "Well, see you later, asshole."

Mugen pivots on his heel, and heads into the forest.

He's entirely unscrupulous. I don't care how ill I am, theft of my swords is completely and utterly unacceptable. It will be rectified _now_. I glance around and find the longest and sturdiest stick I can. Surely there's something left that we haven't yet thrown on the fire. Yes. This branch will do. I tear off the extra twigs and try swinging my makeshift bokken. Hm. Unbalanced, but it will have to do.

I finally make it to my feet, but I have to lean against a nearby tree for a moment. In my lightheadedness, my vision has gone momentarily black. However, I'm not worried about this as much as I am Mugen getting too far ahead of me.

No. I can still hear him, crashing around in the forest. The man has the stealth of a brain-damaged elephant.

Unfortunately, when I start walking, I don't do much better. How is it that I'm stepping on every single loose stick and errant root? The sudden unwieldiness of my body vexes me greatly. At least the sun is still up, or else I might actually run into a tree.

(Or walk in circles again, which would just be all the more infuriating.)

Sweat coats my face, and every other fathomable part of my body. All except for the back of my neck, which feels as if it has been packed in ice. I'd like nothing better than to submerge myself in that river again, even if it meant having a half-dozen fish take up refuge in my gi.

I'm just not moving fast enough. I can't even hear Mugen anymore. Did he start running? Did he notice that I am following him? Fleeing is for cowards. When I find him…

"Are you actually following me?" I look up. Mugen is sitting in a tree about thirty paces ahead of where I am standing. "Geez, I've never seen you move so slow. You're lurching around like a pregnant woman."

"Return my…" Am I actually panting? "…swords."

"Make me."

Mugen leaps out of the tree, and ends up in a crouched position, his back to me. I know that this is my chance to lunge at him, so I throw all of my weight into my steps. He springs ahead effortlessly, running once more into the forest. So close. I almost…umph…tree. Tree!

I take just a moment to rub my forehead and shake it off. At least no one was nearby to see me run into that tree. How humiliating.

As jarring as that was, at least the momentary pain can serve as a focus. I attempt to forget the aches of the rest of my body in favor of the sharp throbbing on my left temple.

I've got to push forward, keep going. I must retrieve my katana and wakizashi, no matter the momentary cost to my comfort. What is a samurai, ronin or otherwise, without his swords? He is lost. He is unnecessary. The soul of bushido is locked within the blade. I can no more go through my life without my katana than I can go without food or air. For, without my sword, who am I?

Nonetheless, I have to give up on trying to run. I keep walking forward, even though I can tell I am definitely breathing heavier now. I don't know how far or how long I've been chasing Mugen, but it seems like a very lengthy forever.

Images and words swirl in my mind. Perhaps this is a punishment constructed specifically for me. Maybe I'm already dead, and I'm just going through a test, or some sort of purification process. Well, at least, if I am dead, Mugen seems to be dead too, since he's here in this forest with me. Perhaps we already killed each other. That's a deep consolation to my possible demise.

Punishment. Hn. Sensei's punishments for minor things usually included intense manual labor of some type. Yukimaru-kun was the worst, really. He was always forgetting to put the equipment away when it was his turn. Sensei must have made him clean the dojo a hundred times for that particular infraction. I usually helped him, though, when Mariya-sensei wasn't looking. Not because I felt it was my duty, but because Yukimaru-kun was the only other student who didn't completely shun my presence. And he sparred with me when no one else except sensei would, even though he hardly ever won.

Cleaning the dojo with Yukimaru-kun wasn't terrible, though. He was much better with history than with kenjutsu, and he knew a lot of interesting things about old battles and wars. He'd tell me about them while we cleaned. Afterwards, when we were sweaty and covered in grime, Orin-san would sometimes bring us daifuku and weak gyokuro tea. All in all, those sorts of punishments weren't so horrible.

Tea. Yes. Any sort of liquid would be welcome right about now. But, I can't stop to look for water. Not yet. I think I might be getting closer. Just a few moments ago, I heard Mugen's voice. Though, I suppose it is relatively possible that I might be hallucinating.

I try to push my hair out of my face, and come away with a hand moist with sweat. Ugh. Wait. My hand… Right by my thumb. It's swollen. There's dried blood. I…

Tree! Tree!

Hm. I didn't run into that one. That's good. I think this forest has it in for me. I think I should…

Wait. There's a…

I come to a full stop and just stare. It's a clearing. Well, not just a clearing. There's a small house. More like a large shack, really. And it can't be completely deserted, because the garden in front is relatively well tended. The rest of the place looks like it could use some repairs, though. Whole strips of wood are falling away from the sides, and the doorway seems to be jutting out of it's frame. As for the engawa, it seems as if someone could kill themselves just…

The engawa.

Right there, in front of the engawa, leaning against the steps, are my blades.

Mugen is here. Where? Is this a trap? Doesn't matter. I'm going to get my swords. I glance around, and then rush forward with as much strength as I can still muster. I'm expecting, at every second, for Mugen to jump out. But, he doesn't.

I grab my swords.

Victory.

Victory.

Now I'll just… I think I'll just… Just for a moment I'll rest… Not for long. Just for a moment. This is good. This is very blissful. I…

There's a rustling behind me. I try to pry my eyes open and tilt my head to the side. If it's Mugen…

But, it's Fuu.

"Wow," she says, "I can't believe Mugen's plan actually worked."

Mugen's head pops out of the doorway. "Took you long enough to get up here." Then he shoves an empty bowl at Fuu. "More."

"Get your own! Are you broken or something?"

I was tricked. They tricked me to get me up here.

And we're probably trespassing.

But, for once, I really don't care.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

In Our Next Chapter: The owner of the house returns. Stay tuned for the rather mundane conclusion of An Amalgam of Lost Tales! See you then!

Author Notes:

I went back and edited the previous chapters after re-reading them, and after also receiving some wonderful suggestions from reviewers. The last chapter, in particular, got some of the dialog re-written to be more in line with the tone of the story.

I haven't been providing a glossary for terms like I usually do on my stories, so I guess I'll put as much as I can here. I really only try to use Japanese terms when the English equivalent isn't exact or proves unwieldy.

Daifuku: Sweet bean paste in a bun.

Gyokuro: A rather "good" roasted tea. Probably not what the dojo residents typically drank with meals. Orin-san probably saved this for guests, so Jin and Yukimaru getting even a weak version was probably a bit of a treat.

Tsuba: This is the guard at the base of the hilt which keeps one's fingers from accidentally slipping down onto the blade. Jin's has a lightning design carved or painted onto his.

Mou: Someone commented on Fuu's use of this word in the first chapter. This is sort of a "soft curse", which means something like "darn" or "geez". I used it because it's particularly Fuu-ish, and in the sub version, she says it quite a bit. (Especially in episode 11, when she's complaining about being kidnapped all the time.)

Back to Edo: Jin's declaration is that he was going to go back to Edo. Edo being the seat of the shogunate, unless Jin had a plan in mind to find someone from the Takeda clan who was high enough up in the government, wasn't corrupt, and was willing to listen to him about what happened at the Mujuu Shinken Dojo (all unlikely), then he probably was pretty much going there to just get executed for his crimes.

Imagawa Ryoshun: One of the first men to write about bushido in a codified form.

Hakama: Yes, they really are designed to help hide the leg movements of samurai.

Mon: A unit of money.

Tabi: Socks

Engawa: Porch-like edifice

Jin's hand: Was bitten by Momo-san in Chapter 1. The wound probably got infected or something. Probably when he was holding onto Mugen to keep Mugen and Fuu from falling into the river.

Thanks again to all reviewers! I'm glad you like this story so far, even if it lacks a big sweeping romantic or humorous aspect.

Special thanks to reviewers for chapter 4: Lady Kagewaki, en route, Ariel the Tempest, Elementary Magpie (Hope those changes are to your liking. I thought they were good suggestions, except for the one about Jin being self-aware enough to realize what he realized. Since that's one of the two major points of the story, I left it in.) koalared, Jonah, Darkness-ninja, and Phi-dono.


	6. Chapter 6: Trespassing and Petty Theft

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Chapter Six: Trespassing and Petty Theft

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Hey, look! There's sake!" Mugen's been rummaging around in the cabinets. He pulls out a large but dusty jug, which he uncorks and proceeds to sniff the contents. "Good sake."

"That's not yours," I say. Trespassing for the sake of shelter is one thing. Unnecessary theft is entirely another.

"Would you pass out already? You're cramping my style."

"I refuse." If I pass out, who knows what he'll do. Or steal. Or destroy.

The inside of the tiny home is fairly well-kept, even if most of the furnishings appear to date from the Heian Era. There's a plethora of cooking utensils hanging from the ceiling, and the garden tools adorn the walls. One corner contains grinding implements, and several small baskets of labeled packets. Dried herbs litter the area. Whoever lives here must make their living by collecting mountain plants for medicine.

It's a small hovel, but for some reason, it has a pleasant, homey atmosphere. Light and air comes in through window on the southernmost wall, bringing the smell of the forest to mix with the pungent odor of dried foods and herbs. I instinctively like it here, for some strange reason. Or, perhaps I just like being able to sit down without worrying that mud is going to soak into my hakama. The person who lives here appears to take good care of their tatami. I like a clean tatami.

"Fresh leeks. Can you believe it? Do you see the color of this radish?" Fuu is no help at all in my half-hearted quest to thwart thievery. "Just look at this eggplant!" She proceeds to shove it in Mugen's face. He snarls slightly and turns around. Fuu eyes the eggplant as if it were a handful of polished ryo. "You have no appreciation for fine produce. None."

Now she's stealing stuff, too. That lunatic is a bad influence on her. "The food is not ours, either," I say.

Fuu's shoulders slump, and she lets out an exasperated breath. "They have plenty more in the garden. I'm sure they won't mind." She brandishes the eggplant at me. "Besides, Mugen is right. You should be sleeping."

"Hm." I have no intention of doing anything of the sort. At least for as long as I possibly can keep myself from it. "No."

"You're obnoxious when you're sick, Jin," Fuu says. I wonder if this means she considers me not obnoxious when I'm healthy. That seems like an acceptable sentiment. Almost a compliment, even. Nonetheless, I'm not sure I like something about the tone of her voice… Oh. Oh no. Here it comes. "Some bodyguards you two are. Don't think I don't know, because I know! I saw Jin's straw hat cut in half. You two were fighting…"

Mugen glances at me. I glance at Mugen. He grabs a cup out of the cabinet, pours some sake into it, and hands it to me. We've suffered many a long Fuu-lecture. If you try to escape, she'll just lecture more when she finds you again. If he's bored, Mugen will gripe at her in return. But, there's sake, and it apparently trumps getting under Fuu's skin.

Several minutes later, Fuu takes a break from bemoaning her fate of having to travel with two 'worthless bodyguards', and looks up from her task of slicing the eggplant. "Hey! Are you two even listening to me?"

"No." Mugen says, and then chugs directly from the bottle of sake.

I remain silent. Not as much because I wish to avoid her wrath as the fact that I'm feeling terribly drowsy. I don't think the sake is helping in my attempt to stay awake. I wonder if Mugen gave me the sake with the intention of getting me to pass out. When no one is looking in my direction, I pinch my wrist _hard_, hoping that the pain will wake me up a bit.

"What are you drinking?" Fuu scoots closer to Mugen and pokes him in the shoulder. Repeatedly. "Give me some."

Mugen glances at me. I glance at Mugen.

We both say "No," at exactly the same time.

The only thing worse than a lecturing Fuu…

Is a drunken Fuu.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Consciousness is not my friend, of late. The sake just speeds the inevitable.

I have the strangest dream. In this dream, a man is standing over Fuu. I can not see him, only his silhouette. He raises a katana, and the sunlight strikes the blade in such a way as to almost blind me with a reflection.

I am running, I am running and drawing my sword. But, no matter how fast I run, I can not get any closer to where Fuu is sitting, her back turned to the attacker, completely oblivious of the danger. I open my mouth to call out to her, but no words come. Then, I hear a voice from beside me. It's Mugen. He's running, too. He's screaming at her to move, using all of the expletives that he knows. He says her name, over and over. I've never heard him say her name, and I have never heard his voice so laced with fear.

Fuu looks up and waves at us. There are sunflowers in her lap, and she's even made herself some jewelry out of them. She doesn't seem to notice all of our attempts to warn her of the danger.

The silhouetted man sets his feet, and I realize that he's taking up a very familiar stance. He moves slightly to the left, and brings the sword in close to Fuu's neck. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. Within seconds, she'll be dead.

And Fuu is smiling at us. She's smiling like I've never really seen her smile, like she is finally at peace, like her quest is complete. Then, I hear her voice. I hear Fuu say, "I trust you, Jin."

And the man with the katana leveled at Fuu's neck goes tense. Very carefully, he drops his stance. Mugen and I stop running, and watch as the man sheathes his katana.

As he turns away, I see his expensive glasses glint in the sunlight, and the faint trace of a smile on his lips.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

I wake up to find I'm covered with a blanket. Fuu's doing, I suspect. I don't know how long I've been asleep, but the light coming in the small windows bespeaks either twilight or dawn. I consult my internal clock, and it provides no answer to the time mystery.

My limbs feel sore, as if I have been practicing in the dojo for hours on end. I'm not sure if it would be better to try to move, and get some blood flowing, or remain stationary. I'd opt for the latter if my throat didn't feel so terrible. The thought of warm tea compels me to fight the lethargy.

I don't see Mugen or Fuu. Who knows where they've gone. Fuu's animal is perched on a nearby shelf, however, so I doubt she's gone far. For the moment, I'm glad to have a measure of peace and quiet. I take stock to make certain I have not been relieved of any of my possessions by a certain unkempt ruffian, and then get to work on making tea.

Surely, the absent resident of this domicile would not begrudge me a little… Now this is fine tea, indeed. I bring the lacquered box to my face and inhale deeply. Lightly roasted, but with a faint scent of oranges. It reminds me of Orin-san's good tea, the kind she kept on the top shelf, and brought out only when sensei had visitors from other dojos.

It takes me right back to the first time sensei asked me to represent our dojo at a local exhibition in honor of a visiting daimyo. Before that, he'd always sent one of the older students, a senior to Yukimaru and myself. But, that student had left the dojo to take up a government position in another city.

We sat across from one another, sensei and I. I don't think I understood the full scope of what he was asking of me until Orin-san served tea. That precious tea we saved for special occasions, and I was being offered it, as if I were his most honored guest. I'd tasted it before, on the sly, when Orin-san would reward us with a weak version made from stems and leavings. But, never this potent, never in its true and intended form.

I don't think I had ever felt the way I felt at that moment. I do not know if I will ever feel that way again.

"You get your nose out of my tea!"

I look up in time to see the bristles of the broom flying at my head. Unfortunately, in my rather pathetic state, all I do is block them from hitting my face by allowing them to strike my forearm, instead. It stings, and tea leaves go everywhere.

I can't believe I was so lost in memories, I didn't notice someone come into the room.

"Aieeee! You got tea everywhere. Why, you'd best leave before I… I…"

I try to scrape the tea leaves back into the box. I don't point out the fact that the tea would not have been spilt if this woman hadn't tried to attack me with a cleaning implement.

"Jin-san? Is that… No, it couldn't be… My vision must be going."

I look up, and find a rather ancient woman peering at me. She's short, maybe not even as tall as Fuu, and her graying hair is pulled up into a style not unlike what I remember my mother wearing. She puts a gnarled hand up to her wrinkle-lined eyes and rubs at them. Those eyes… Humble yet wise. I remember them always in the background of my youth, handing me clean clothing, handing me food, handing me a list of things to pick up from the marketplace. Orin-san was always handing me something, it seemed.

"Orin-san," I say quietly. Now I actually do feel bad about spilling the tea leaves.

"Orin-san, he says. As if it's perfectly normal for him to appear from nowhere." Orin-san kneels down next to me and starts to help me clean up the spilled tea leaves. It takes her a few moments to get to the floor, and I actually think I hear her knee creak. "My goodness, Jin-san, you gave me a fright. I thought I was being robbed."

I'm too surprised by Orin-san's appearance to inform her that she's already been relieved of half of her sake and several eggplants.

"But, I should have known that only a very particular sort of thief would go after my gyokuro." Orin-san laughs, a hearty but warm sound that I'd long since forgotten.

"My apologies. I will replace the tea." How I will replace it, I have no idea, since I'm completely broke. But, this seems like the correct thing to offer.

"Oh, don't you worry. I don't get any visitors up here, anyway. It would have just gone to waste. But here you are, a surprise visitor…" Orin-san leans back a little and squints at me. "You are just too pale, Jin-san. Have you been living in a cave? And skinny. Look at your wrists! Doesn't your wife feed you anything?"

"I'm not…"

"No? And do you know why? Because you never spoke to any of the young ladies, that's why. Always so taciturn. Why I remember…"

"Who's the old hag?" Mugen is standing in the doorway, scowling at Orin-san as if she smelled of spoiled leeks. And, maybe she does, a little. Fuu fails at pushing him out of the way, and ends up squeezing herself through the gap between Mugen and the wall.

"Orin-san," I say by way of introduction, "My traveling companions." I pick the final few leaves of tea off of my gi, and deposit them back into the box. I'm not looking forward to this. I shouldn't have followed Mugen back to this hut. I still can't believe I fell for that trick. And I can't believe I begrudge him the fact that it was a good plan.

"This is Mugen, and I'm Fuu. Sorry for any mess we made. Jin's been sick and we were looking for a place to let him rest."

Orin-san narrows her eyes at me. Her hand shoots out and smacks against my forehead a little more forcefully than necessary. I definitely think her eyesight is going bad. "It's quite alright, Fuu-chan. Please make yourself at home here, and… My goodness, she's right. You do have a fever, Jin-san. That must be why you're so pale, hm?"

Mugen snorts derisively and plops down in the doorway. "Ugh. An old woman. Why couldn't it have been a young woman? Old women have saggy…"

Fuu clamps a hand over his mouth. Orin-san either doesn't hear him, or pretends that she doesn't. I'm betting the latter. She always could hear boys conspiring to steal snacks from halfway across the dojo.

"Well," Orin-san says, "I'll make Jin-san some medicinal tea. I think that will help. And then we shall all have a lovely dinner, hm? I'm glad to have visitors. And, any friend of Jin-san's is certainly welcome in my home."

I never said that they were my _friends_!

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Yes. After Mariya-sensei could no longer afford a housekeeper, I traveled here to live with my sister. She made a decent living selling medicinal herbs from the mountain in the nearest village. Sadly, however, she passed away a year ago. I've continued her trade, though. It's very solitary, but you get used to it."

I hear a rhythmic grinding noise, and the air is pungent with the smell of freshly-crushed plants. I'm lying on my side, with a cool compress on my forehead. The twitter of mid-morning larks and sparrows mixes with the grinding and chatter. It's almost…comfortable. Or is the better word "pleasant"?

"I'm sorry to hear about your sister, Orin-san."

"Mm. Yes. But, such things happen to old people. And she was happy in her life… Oh, that's very good, Fuu-chan. You have strong arms. You could be a pharmacist. Keep grinding until it becomes like sand, and then I will show you how to make the medicine packets."

I open one eye slightly, and take a quick peek around the room. Mugen is missing. Fuu and Orin-san are sitting in the corner. Fuu, hunched over a stone grinding wheel, uses the handles to push it back and forth. Next to her, Orin-san is plucking leaves off of a pile of cut plants.

"Orin-san, I was wondering… What was Jin like as a boy?"

"As a boy?" Orin-san looks up thoughtfully. "You know, he was a very plump little child when he first came to the dojo. I thought for sure that Mariya-sensei would have to take up teaching sumo. But, as soon as Jin-san started training with his shinai, he turned as lanky as a wolf."

Fuu stops grinding for the moment. "I mean, was he always so…you know, quiet and reserved?"

"Goodness, yes. Always so serious, our Jin-san. So very proper. Mariya-sensei used to say to me, 'Orin, that boy was born to the blade, but a soul of steel will sink a man cast into the waters.' I think he was glad that Jin-san came to the dojo, but sad that Jin-san was always so alone and withdrawn."

"Oh." The sadness in Fuu's voice makes the hair on the back of my neck bristle. I really don't like the turn this conversation has taken. I don't know if Orin-san knows about Mariya-sensei and I, and I'm not exactly keen on her finding out, for some reason. And, why do people always talk about me when they think I am asleep?

"I always hoped for Jin-san's happiness. Does he ever smile now, Fuu-chan?"

"Um, well, not really." Fuu's voice goes back to a more positive tone, "But, I think he's lightened up a lot since we began this journey. And maybe Mugen has settled down some. Even though they want to kill each other, I think they're actually pretty good influences on one another."

She's been in the sake. Surely she's drunk.

"Well, that's good to hear," Orin-san says. There's a rustling of cloth. I think Orin-san is scooting closer to Fuu. "Say, Fuu-chan…"

"Yes?"

"About that Mugen-san… Is he your husband?"

The noise of my choking is, thankfully, covered up by Fuu's squeals of denial.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

In Our Next Chapter: The final chapter of 'An Amalgam of Lost Tales'. I hope you'll look forward to it!

A/N: Sorry for the delay. I needed a break from this story, so I worked on some of my others for a while.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I really appreciate your support of this sort of silly, sort of pointless story. So, thanks to: xcloudx, dupidnavagog, koalared, dawn2dusk, sarcasticrabbit, Gavin Gunhold, BlackSails, Elementary Magpie, Lady Kagewaki, poornmiseable, en route, and Phi Dono.


	7. Chapter 7: A Floating Leaf

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Chapter Seven: A Floating Leaf

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Days pass. My fever gets better and worse at decidedly unpredictable intervals. Orin-san gives me bitter medicinal tea every time I wake. Fuu smiles a lot, hiding whatever worries she might be contemplating. As for Mugen, he's invariably laying outside the door on the engawa, looking supremely bored. 

Then, one morning, I awaken to find that my fever has broken. I feel dizzy and drained, but the soreness which had previously wracked my entire body has faded away. And I've awoken before anyone else. This is a good sign.

I decide, then and there, never to become ill again. It's rather humiliating, and tedious. I mark it down as altogether contrary to what a man should be doing with his time.

Sensei never got ill. And, there you go. Surely he decided, somewhere in his youth, never to indulge in such a frivolous pastime.

A man can decide, of his own accord, to go against nature. Just because the natural world is depicted as this monstrous force over which we have no control, doesn't mean we should stand by idly and permit ourselves to become victims. All things which seek to press a man into submission must be fought with the utmost strength available.

Wait. Isn't that the sort of opinion Mugen generally espouses?

Well, maybe I'm still a little sick.

And I reek, too. I need a bath.

Hm. If I couldn't see the color of the sleeves on my gi, I'd have the strange impression that I went to sleep as Jin and woke up as Mugen. The thought is more grippingly horrifying than the concept of dying to that ruffian's blade.

I make my way out of Orin-san's little house, and head toward the sound of the nearby mountain stream. Things seem strangely clear, the sun's rays appear crisper. The rustling leaves and the twigs crunching under my feet sound more distinct. I breathe deeply, filling myself with the scent of pine, wild mint, and clover. It is as refreshing as any tea, though I doubt I would say such a thing to Orin-san.

I am surprised to find that the stream is not frigid. Perhaps it is warmed from heat kept deep within the mountain. As the blissfully temperate water washes away the last remaining aches within my body, I experience a strange moment of peace. 

At this juncture, what cares have I? What concerns? The constant peril which has plagued this journey sets itself in stark and absurd relief to the tranquility of the moment. The necessity to search for whatever it is I have been seeking fades to a dull whisper, to a background murmur, quieter than the stream in which I bathe. 

I watch as a single leaf, the size of my palm, falls from a nearby tree, and pushed by wind and currents, sails across the water. Sometimes it spins, sometimes it becomes quite still. For a moment it gets caught near the bank, unable to move. Then it breaks free and races away from me at such a speed I fear it might capsize. 

This leaf...

Does it care where it is going? Does it fight against the current? Does it struggle against the wind? Is it filled with sorrow for parting with the tree?

No. I think it enjoys the journey. I think it enjoys the journey, very much.

If it did not, it would have clung to the tree far more tightly.

I do not know what will become of me. I do not know if I will die soon, or many years from now. I do not know if Mugen and I will ever settle our duel, if Fuu will find her Sunflower Samurai, if we will all part ways and this journey will become a distant memory to each of us. I do not know if I will ever see Shino-san again.

All I do know is that if I cling to a tree too tightly, I will never know even as much as a simple leaf does.

I wiggle my toes in the water. It's something I've seen Fuu do several times while fishing. She'll dip her toes into the water, and just move them around. Mugen does the same thing, but I'd rather not think about his hairy toes, and I'm pretty sure he does it just to loosen up the gunk in his toenails. Still, they both appeared to enjoy it, and...

Well, I suppose it does feel nice.

How do they know these things? I've studied a great many books, and social protocols, and techniques, but I've never come across even a single scholar or sensei who mentions such a thing as the joy of wiggling one's toes in water. None of them tell you how to catch an eel out of a bucket. No one has ever revealed to me how to comfort a crying Fuu, or outdrink a bottomless-stomached barbarian.

There are no books about the things you really should know.

"Yeeeeeeeehaw!"

My moment of clarity is shattered by a wall of water, much of which decides to enter my head by way of my mouth and my nostrils. Instead of going for my katana, I pinch the bridge of my nose, and narrow my eyes at Mugen when his head reappears.

"That's a cannonball," Mugen says, "You know? Like when those foreign ships shoot big fat balls of iron at things? It completely destroys all the damn samurai."

"I am not destroyed." I try not to cough, but I can't help it, exactly. Water up one's nose is decidedly unpleasant.

Mugen smirks at my discomfort. He swishes around in the water a bit, until he finds where he wants to be, which thankfully isn't very close to me. "Water's not bad." He looks over at me, and juts out his bottom lip. "View could be better, though."

"Why are you here?"

"I was beginning to smell like that old lady's house. Chicks don't want guys that smell like old women."

"How astute." I decide not to tell him that women probably don't favor the regular odor-of-Mugen, either. 

"Plus, they were both snoring. Fuck, you ever heard women snore like that?"

"You snore."

"So do you, asshole."

This is asinine. I decide not to respond with the obvious statement, which is that I do not snore, because I don't. (Do I?) Instead, I just sit in silence. Maybe if I ignore him, he'll get bored, and leave me in peace.

I wait for Mugen to try and taunt me again, but surprisingly, he doesn't. He just leans against a rock, submerged up to his sternum, a typically uncouth sneer plastered on his face. I have to wonder what goes through the mind of such a person. What is he thinking about now? Is he thinking about how to find sake and women? Is he even capable of human thought? I suppose I would have just as much luck trying to figure out the mind of Fuu's animal. 

What do I care what he's thinking? How absurd.

Finally, he asks, "Does the old woman know about you?"

I realize I have been watching the ripples on the water, the tiny waves created by the softly swirling water hitting my skin. Everything is like this. Interconnected by some invisible fluid. The more you try to run away from it, the more ripples you will create.

"No."

I realize my mistake as soon as the word comes out of my mouth. Mugen only asked because he wants to use the information as leverage, to blackmail me. I don't know what he wants out of me, I just know I won't like it.

"It is not my concern what she thinks of me," I say. Surely, it couldn't possibly matter, one way or the other, if Orin-san finds out that I killed sensei. She's just an old woman I knew in my childhood. She is nothing to me.

Mugen rolls his eyes, and turns around, crossing his arms to lean them on a rock. His voice is like a fire, like the blazing pits used to forge swords. "Someone should kill that crone. Put her down like an old lame dog. People shouldn't live past their time."

His insinuation burns into me. Before I can even think, my hand is on my katana, my fingers curl around the hilt, and the blade ends up pointed at Mugen's neck. Every muscle in my body has lost the relaxation provided by the warm water. He doesn't move, even though he knows I'm pointing a blade at him. It's surprising, really, that he's left himself open like this. He's nowhere even close to his sword. He's completely unclothed, defenseless. I should kill him while I have this advantage.

But, stabbing a man in the back just isn't...right.

"Respect your elders," I say, my voice surprising even me with its clipped monotone.

He doesn't turn around, and instead just places his hands on the rock and pulls himself out of the water. In the process, I see bared parts of Mugen that I just never wanted to fathom. How is it that he's even tan there? Ugh.

"Heh." He finishes climbing out of the water and walks away, naked and apparently feeling no need to be immediately clothed. "You've got to be the stupidest person in Japan."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

In return for her hospitality, we've decided to assist Orin-san in making some repairs on her dilapidated home. Or, rather, I'm doing the repairing while Mugen and Fuu squabble about every little thing. Their arguments seem endless. Yet, whenever Orin-san shows up, Mugen finds an excuse to wander off. I don't know why he has such an aversion to old people, and I frankly don't care. I'm just glad for the peace and quiet.

"Jin-san, do be careful on that roof." Orin-san shields her eyes from the sunlight as she looks up at me. "My goodness, Fuu-san, these young men are so very energetic, aren't they?"

"I wish they'd be less energetic sometimes," Fuu grumbles. I can't see her, because she's hidden by the eaves of the engawa, but I'm certain she has that post-argument pout on her face. She's been mending some of Orin-san's clothing and baskets, since Orin-san can no longer see well enough for the delicate work. "They're always fighting. It gives me a real headache."

I hear a raspy laugh come from Orin-san, "And Fuu-san is energetic too, hm?" Fuu doesn't respond, at least not vocally. Orin-san continues, "My my, what wonderful work you've done with the baskets. I'm sure you must have quite an appetite by now."

I can almost hear Fuu's stomach grumble from here.

"Why don't you take this jug of tea up to Jin-san, hm? By the time you get finished, I should be back with some snacks."

Snacks. It's got to be Fuu's favorite word. Did I eat quite so much when I was still growing? I don't think the entire dojo consumed in a week as much food as Fuu could consume in a day. 

A minute later, Fuu's head pokes over the edge of the roof. "Geez, Jin, are you going to hide up here all day? You don't have to make this place as impenetrable as Edo Castle, you know."

I just keep working. Anything worth doing, is worth doing right the first time. Fuu finishes climbing up the ladder, and perches on the edge of the roof, her feet dangling precariously over the side. She puts the jug of tea down beside her legs, and looks back over her shoulder at me. "Orin-san said you should drink this. It'll do no good if you overwork yourself and end up getting sick again."

"Aa." I suppose I am a bit thirsty. I put down the bundle of straw I've been stuffing into a hole in Orin-san's roof and go to sit beside Fuu. Because of the angle of the roofing, I can't sit properly on my knees. Even sitting cross-legged turns out a bit worrisome, tilting me forward at a strange angle. 

Fuu watches me attempt to get comfortable, and just laughs. "It's a roof, Jin, not an audience with a daimyo."

"Aa." I finally decide to just do as Fuu is doing, and let my legs dangle over the side of the roof. I think, before this journey, I would have been even more uncomfortable to sit so informally in public. Fuu hands me the tea, which I uncork and drink. It's good, but has been mixed with some strange spice or herb I can't place. 

"It's so pretty. And so big. From the ground, because of the trees, you can't tell how absolutely huge it is." 

I glance up from drinking, and follow Fuu's line of sight. From the roof, you can see far into the valley. The scores and scores of trees melt into one another, creating a soft carpet that extends seemingly forever. The only thing which mars the continual green is a thin stripe snaking through the valley, the unnamed river which led us to Orin-san's house. I wonder how high up you'd have to go in order to be able to see all the way back to Kyoto...or even to Edo. 

"It's hard to think that we traveled that far."

"Aa."

To the west, the sun sits low in the sky, surrounded by the oranges and pinks of pre-twilight. I wonder how many sunsets we've passed through on our journey. Was it many? Or was it only a few? Did we begin only yesterday, or have we been traveling together for a very long time? Time seems strange, like the writing in a foreign book, indecipherable. 

Fuu turns her face toward the sunset, and it reflects all the colors of the sky, as if it were alight and glowing, a source of some unfathomable energy. The wind nudges little tendrils of her hair. She smiles a bit, but the smile is far away, lost in a thought I will never know, I'm sure. Sometimes, I think I make a mistake in forgetting that Fuu is just as secretive as Mugen or I. There is much about her that we just don't know. 

"Sunset always makes me think of sunflowers. You know why? Because sunflowers turn to follow the journey of the sun all day long. But then, at night, the sun disappears. And the sunflowers are stuck looking for the sun in the direction that it set. And all through the night, they're waiting and waiting. But, sunflowers don't have legs, so they can't go to the west to find out where the sun went. All they can do is wait, full of sadness that the sun has left them. That's why their seeds are shaped like teardrops."

I don't have anything to say to that, so I just take another sip of tea, and turn to look at the sunset. This is...nice, I think. Sitting here, on the roof, with Fuu. There's something so familiar about it, even though I know it has never happened before.

I don't know what it means to feel this way. I decide not to think about it. I decide to be a leaf, tumbling and spinning on the current of a forest stream.

"I'm so hungry," Fuu mumbles. Then she yawns. "Orin-san said she'd bring...snacks...so...where is she...anyway?"

I keep drinking the tea. The one good thing about Fuu is that she's long since stopped requiring me to actually answer -most- of her questions. I notice she's given up on trying to keep Mugen in line, much of the time, too. Maybe there's a point at which you just realize that people are going to be the way they are, and there's just nothing you can really do about it. Even if it annoys you, or infuriates you, there's nothing you can do.

I watch the sunset for a long time. Fuu is uncharacteristically silent. After her story about the sunflowers, the sunset seems to have all the more meaning than before. It's as if something important should be revealed when the sun disappears, some answer to the whole mystery of this long journey. I find myself anticipating the darkness in an almost irrational way. 

And then, when the bottom curve of the sun touches the treetops to the west, I feel a heaviness on my arm. It's alarming. But, when I turn to look, I find that I'm gazing at the top of Fuu's head. She's leaning against me. Or rather, she's fallen asleep, and I've been designated the most convenient futon.

I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do. This is certainly less than decent. I should wake her up, but in a way that doesn't startle her and cause her to fall off the roof. Maybe if I tried...shifting my weight... No, perhaps I should just clear my throat.

I try that, but it doesn't seem to work.

So, I just leave her be. It's not a horrible feeling, the weight of Fuu's head on my arm. Maybe it does mean something. I don't know what, but maybe it's important.

Maybe...

But, why does my arm feel so...wet?

"Hey, are you...drooling?"

Fuu shifts her weight a little, and I hear her murmur, "I'm so hungry."

Only Fuu.  
But, what can I do?

I'm just a leaf, tumbling downstream.

I'm just a sunflower samurai, following the journey of the sun...

A sun who is chasing a sunflower samurai of her own.

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"I have to thank you, Jin-san, for all the help you and your friends have given me. My house looks even better than when I moved in with my sister. And Fuu-san has been such a delight. I don't know about that other young man, though. He seems a bit dangerous."

She doesn't know the half of it. "It was no trouble."

Orin-san asked me to walk with her to the river before we leave to continue our journey. The path through the woods twists and turns, but I'm somehow relieved for even this hint of a road. At least you know which way you're supposed to be going.

I have to slow my pace considerably so that I don't lose Orin-san. It's almost a difficult task, to remember not to walk at my usual speed. Still, it does give me a reason to look at all of the foliage. Fuu's right. You just can't tell how enormous this forest is when you're on the ground.

"I am glad for you, Jin-san, glad that you have found friends. I was worried about you for a long time, but I don't have to worry anymore, do I?"

Why would she worry about me? She barely knew me, and we certainly have not been in contact for many years. Well, I suppose older people become more easily nostalgic for strange things and odd places. 

"There's no reason..."

Orin-san stops walking. She's a few paces ahead of me, being the one who knows where we're going. "Yukimaru-san came here some months ago. He told a tale to me, a tale about wickedness and betrayal which destroyed the good dojo where you and I once lived." Orin-san reaches out and touches a low-hanging branch. Her old fingers brush over a yellow-green leaf, as if caressing it, calming it. "He spoke of a terrifying monster which had taken up residence in the heart of a quiet boy I once knew, of a sword which had become what Mariya-sensei always feared, of a great wrong which had been done to my old employer."

I'm surprised, but I refrain from showing it. I never even suspected that Orin-san might already know about sensei. She never, for a single moment, led me to believe that she had heard the tale from Yukimaru-kun. 

"But, I've not met any such monster over these past few days, Jin-san. So, I know Yukimaru-san must be wrong, mustn't he?"

I don't know what she wants. Does she want me to reassure her, to tell her that I am not the one who killed sensei? But, it would not exactly be appropriate to lie. A lie would be contrary to the tenets of bushido, and would invalidate the forthrightness with which I am attempting to live my life. 

But, why would I even consider lying? Why does it matter to me if this old woman knows the truth? Why does it matter to me...

If Mugen and Fuu know the truth?

Am I guilty? Do I feel...guilty? Despite the fact that I know what I did, and what I continue to do, was right by the code of the samurai, do I secretly doubt the purity of my intent, then as well as now?

Or is there something wholly different at work here?

Something even simpler. Something which can be boiled down to one simple question.

If they know, will things change between us?

To Fuu, Mugen, and even Orin-san, will Jin still be Jin?

Or an unfathomable monster?

I see Orin-san's fingernails clip a leaf from the tree as she waits for my answer. It spins and twirls through the air, now freed to float nigh and fro, fast and slow, until it alights upon a puddle formed by the early morning rain. 

"There was a monster at the dojo," I say, as I bend down to pick up the leaf. "And betrayal did arise."

Even though Orin-san is not facing me, I can tell that her gnarled old hand has moved to cover her lips.

"But, as my wise sensei taught, I struck at the heart of it, before it could spread."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

We leave Orin-san's on a brilliantly clear morning, and travel, according to her directions, to the nearby village where she usually sells her medicinal herbs. It is not a large place, this village, but any semblance of civilization is a relief after spending so much time in the woods. 

And, it has an inn.

We spend a few days working to acquire traveling funds, though we encounter a slight hitch in our plans when Mugen gambles half of our savings away, and subsequently runs afoul of the local yakuza when he tries to get the money back through not particularly upright means. Mugen says they cheated him out of his money. I'm not sure which is worse, that he fell for their cheating, or that he was angry about it afterwards.

I manage to acquire another map, and a small pouch in which to keep a certain leaf I, for some reason, decided to take as a souvenir of our visit with Orin-san.

Fuu says that the way they prepare steamed trout in this town is the most delicious she's ever had. It's unimaginably tender, and she's sorry that she ate it all before we came back from dealing with the yakuza.

I sit down to clean my katana and listen to them argue.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Okay, okay. New question. If you could be meet any person from history, who would you meet?"

Mugen groans loudly. "Not this shit again."

We're walking along the banks of a small river. We were walking more swiftly, this afternoon, when it became apparent that we were no longer welcome in the previous village. But, it seems that no one decided to follow us, so now we've settled into our usual pace. 

"C'mon. Jin, who would you want to meet?"

"Masamune."

Fuu sighs and shakes her head. "I should have seen that one coming." She points at Mugen. "Your turn."

Mugen scratches his head for a moment, and then says, "Masamune's wife."

Ugh. Does he have to sully everything good and decent in this world? "Inappropriate."

"Well, he spent so much time working on those damn swords, she was probably itching for it, if you know what I mean."

Fuu just makes a face and tries to ignore Mugen's more lecherous thoughts. "I can't think of who I'd want to meet. I'm too hungry to think."

"Hey! You asked the question!"

I blink. "Did you really want to know her answer?"

Mugen shrugs, and grumbles something about how he doesn't really care. He keeps grumbling as he wanders toward the edge of the river and begins to look for bait and a sturdy reed to use for fishing. 

I start to collect wood for the fire. This is the way it is. These are the parts that we play. We all know our place within this journey. As Fuu once said: Fuu is Fuu, Mugen is Mugen, and Jin is Jin. Who we are is probably who we will always be. You can struggle against it, like a fish swimming upstream, like a leaf clinging to a tree, like a sunflower straining to see what is already gone, or you can just go with the flow.

It's not too long before we're all sitting around the fire, watching the fish sizzle in the flames. 

"How much longer until we get to Nagasaki?" Fuu asks.

I reach into my gi and rummage around. I blink a few times, and pull my hand out. Then I try again.

Fuu leans forward, her eyes going extremely wide. "Don't tell me... Don't tell me you lost the map again!"

"I lost the map again."

"WHAT?" There's flame in Fuu's eyes, and I don't think it's the reflection of the campfire. "Are you serious?"

I reach into my gi and pull out a section of paper.

"No," I say as I unfold the map, "I'm not serious."

And for once, being less than serious feels just fine.

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THE END.

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Epilogue

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"Anyway," Mugen asks, "Just how far is it to Nagasaki?"

I consult the map. It seems, in our wandering, we've traveled further than we thought. "We've already passed Nagasaki."

"WHAT?"

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

GO WITH THE FLOW.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

I hope you all enjoyed reading "An Amalgam of Lost Tales". I certainly enjoyed writing it. I don't know that I will be writing any more Samurai Champloo fanfiction, since I think this got out of my system what I wanted to explore. 

Author's Note:

Masamune: Considered one of the forefathers, if not THE forefather, of katana craftsmanship. I don't know if he actually had a wife, and Mugen probably doesn't know, either.

Cannons: Actually, the Japanese had them at least by 1600. Though, I believe they were fairly small.

Special thanks to all reviewers. Your kind words and encouragement are always appreciated. So, thanks to: roman, Emerald, RaevanDawn, sarcastic rabbit, Reia, koalared, Patosan, xcloudx, selinianuo, en route, poornmiserable, Ellie, Nightmare Alchemist, Ouatic-7, Elementary Magpie, and CinnamonGrrl. 


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